


Cause You Were Born on the Fourth of July (Freedom Ring)

by sidium



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fireworks, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Memories, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidium/pseuds/sidium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I remember when we were little,” Steve starts out, feeling a grin spread over his face, “I think we were about six or seven; you used to tell me the fireworks that went off every Fourth of July were just for me. The whole city celebrating my birthday.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cause You Were Born on the Fourth of July (Freedom Ring)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holliswrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holliswrites/gifts).



> My 30th fic. Only made possible by my lovely muse, holliswrites. Title stolen, shamelessly, from Jason Mraz.

Steve is watching a firework burst into a cloud of green and red sparks when he feels a person sit down next to him on the sofa he pulled over to the window. He doesn’t even need to turn and look to know who it is. Who else but Bucky would’ve left Stark’s fabulous, over-the-top rooftop Fourth of July party to come find Steve, sitting alone in his living room watching the fireworks through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows? 

A moment passes in silence, as both of them look out over the New York skyline to watch as another explosion of orange lights the sky. 

“You realize everyone else is on the roof, correct?” Bucky asks. Steve glances over at him, sitting still and staring out ahead, worn grey hoodie enveloping him, his hair pulled back with a neon green hair band. 

“Yeah,” Steve confirms, turning back to the window, “and frankly, I don’t know how Tony doesn’t have a panic attack from the sound.” 

“Is that why you’re here?” Bucky asks, finally turning to look at Steve. 

“I wanted to see the fireworks, but I didn’t want to hear them. I figured sitting behind sound-proof glass would be the logical answer,” Steve calmly reasons with a shrug. “I can see them, but I don’t have to hear them.” 

“I thought hearing them was half the fun,” Bucky jokes with a grin, knowing full-well why any person with PTSD would want to avoid them. Steve has a feeling Tony is only accomplishing his task of hosting his event by consuming copious amounts of alcohol and by being sustained by the constant presence of Pepper. Steve also has a feeling, though Bucky will deny it, that Bucky was probably relieved to be able to avoid that whole fiasco without a scene of his own. 

They lapse into a comfortable silence, and after four or five more fireworks go off, Steve slips his hand into Bucky’s cybernetic one. It doesn’t feel the same as skin, obviously, but when Bucky intertwines his fingers with Steve, the flutter that happens in Steve’s chest is organic enough for both of them. 

“How long do these go for, anyway?” Bucky asks, gesturing out the window vaguely with his right hand. 

“Tony said something about dawn, but I think he was lying. Or joking.” Steve shrugs. “I figure they have to end eventually.” Bucky nods in agreement and they watch a few more multicolored explosions burst in the sky.

“I remember when we were little,” Steve starts out, feeling a grin spread over his face, “I think we were about six or seven; you used to tell me the fireworks that went off every Fourth of July were just for me. The whole city celebrating my birthday.” 

Bucky lets out a bark of a laugh as a burst of blue and silver goes off in the distance, “Yeah. I can’t believe you fell for that. Took you years to finally call me on it. Gullible little twerp.” 

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh, remembering the awe he felt when he really, truly believed it. That the fireworks being set off, big and bold enough for the whole city to see, were really just for his birthday. “I don’t think it was an issue of me being gullible, so much as it was me believing every word you ever said.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Took me a few years to realize that sometimes you’d bullshit even me.” Steve says, and Bucky shrugs. 

“Was for your own good. The first time I was trying to calm you down cause you were scared of them. After that, it was kind of a weird tradition. It made you happy.” Bucky offers, and Steve feels a surge of gratitude to whoever’s out there that Bucky can even remember the fireworks, let alone the reason he lied about them. It seems like yesterday Bucky had shown up on their doorstep, broken and suspicious of everyone and everything, and now, they could actually reminisce, laugh and share stories. It felt too good to be true. 

“How old are you, now?” Bucky teases, breaking Steve out of his reverie “95? 96?” 

“I believe the official count is 96, now,” Steve confirms with a swift nod. 

“Wow, gramps, you look good for 96.” Bucky says in a faux-awed voice. “What’s your secret? Shot of whiskey every day? Unfiltered cigarettes?” 

“Ha, ha.” Steve says, rolling his eyes, “You realize me being 96 makes you 97, right? Or did you forget you’re older than me, dumbass?” 

Bucky covers his chest with his free hand, and gives him a look of mock-hurt, “Stevie, you injure me, insulting my intelligence like that.” He says, moving his hand to pull a small package out of the front pocket of his hoodie. “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be inclined to just get rid of this. Fortunately, you’re a lucky man.” 

He hands the present to Steve who blushes and can’t hide his grin, “Ain’t that the truth.” He agrees. He sets the small, square box off to the side and turns to pull Bucky close and press their mouths together in a sweet, slow kiss. 

“So, you don’t think the fireworks are just for you anymore, huh?” Bucky asks, voice soft, when Steve finally pulls away. They’re not paying any attention to the fireworks still going off brightly over the skyline, but neither of them particularly cares. 

“Nope.” Steve smiles, not pulling away from Bucky, noses brushing. “Don’t need’em, anyway. I’ve got something better.” Bucky usually rolls his eyes at Steve’s cheesy lines, even if he does usually grin at the same time, but this time he just smiles and tucks his face into the crook of Steve’s neck. 

Steve slides his free hand onto the back of Bucky’s neck and sighs. “You think we need to see the end of these, or can we go make some fireworks of our own?” Bucky pulls back with a disbelieving look and Steve knows he’s wondering how he could say a line _that_ cheesy; but before Bucky can actually say anything about it, Steve does the most comical eyebrow wiggle he can possibly muster and Bucky bursts out laughing, bright and happy, and Steve practically glows at the sight. 

“C’mon, birthday boy. I think a birthday blowjob is in order for you,” Bucky says, standing and pulling Steve along behind him by their still-entwined hands. 

And if the silver ring wrapped in cheery birthday paper sits on the couch until morning, and Bucky’s proposal actually happens on the fifth, they’ll still tell everyone it happened on the fourth, with fireworks going off in the background. It’s just a better story. 

They’ll always know the truth anyway.


End file.
